


What's Mine is Yours

by charlesdk



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arthur Morgan Lives, Happy Ending, M/M, No plot only tenderness, Sexual Content, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:07:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26498374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlesdk/pseuds/charlesdk
Summary: It starts with a shirt.Arthur doesn't recognize it as his own though it lays folded nicely on his bed along with the rest of his laundry at camp at Clemens Point like it is. It's a plain shirt, dark blue in color and freshly washed so it doesn't smell like anything or anyone but he knows who it belongs to the moment he sees it.He has seen Charles wear it before, knows exactly how it looks on his body. Why it's on his bed, he has no idea but he doesn't question it for long. He casts a look around camp and sees that no one is looking his way, so he unfolds the shirt and puts it on.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith
Comments: 16
Kudos: 163





	What's Mine is Yours

It starts with a shirt.

Arthur doesn't recognize it as his own though it lays folded nicely on his bed along with the rest of his laundry at camp at Clemens Point like it is. It's a plain shirt, dark blue in color and freshly washed so it doesn't smell like anything or anyone but he knows who it belongs to the moment he sees it.

He has seen Charles wear it before, knows exactly how it looks on his body. Why it's on his bed, he has no idea but he doesn't question it for long. He casts a look around camp and sees that no one is looking his way, so he unfolds the shirt and puts it on. His own shirt is dirty with mud after a ten day trip away from camp. He's been out, doing things and meeting people, and it's left his shirt in ruins.

Charles' is a little big on him. Charles is bigger than him. Wider, broader. Not by all that much but it's noticeable, especially now with Charles' shirt draped over his body. Arthur does the buttons up though he leaves the last few undone and stuffs the ends into his pants. He leaves his holster and satchel on his bed, then he turns around and walks out.

He finds Charles sitting on a box under the supply tent, a bit away from where the others are eating Pearson's dinner by the campfire. Except Dutch, though he rarely ever joins them anyway. Charles has a piece of wood in one hand and his knife in the other, carving away. He's focused and doesn't notice Arthur approaching until Arthur clears his throat pointedly in front of him.

Charles' hands stop working and he looks up and at him. His lips move and twitch, undoubtedly to say hello or speak his name, but it only takes a split second for those lips to still and his brows furrow in confusion instead.

Arthur both sees and feels the way Charles' eyes wander over him. He lets him look and shifts his weight from one foot to the other, resting his hands by his waistline and letting his thumbs hook into his belt loops.

“Hey Charles,” he says.

“Is that my shirt?” Charles asks him in lieu of saying hi back.

“Is it?” Arthur looks down at himself, then he shrugs and says, “It was on my bed.”

Charles hums quietly, eyes locked onto him but he's not looking at his face.

“You, ah. You want it back?” Arthur asks. “I can take it off, ain't a problem.”

“No,” Charles says after a beat. “Keep it. It looks good on you.”

His eyes move up and lock with Arthur's. Arthur hasn't looked away and doesn't now. He might've, had it been a couple months earlier, but all he does now is look back even though the way Charles is looking at him makes his heart do odd things. He's looking at him, _really_ looking.

Arthur is still getting used to being looked at like this.

Arthur opens his mouth to say something though he doesn't know what. But before he can utter anything but the beginning of a word, Karen calls out his name. Arthur blinks, shakes himself out of Charles' stare, and turns to look toward Karen's voice.

She's standing by the campfire, her one hand raised up high while the other lifts a bowl. The others sitting around the campfire have turned to look too, Tilly waving and Mary-Beth smiling. He doesn't see little Jack anywhere, though he's probably gone off to explore again or he's busy reading one of his books.

“Arthur!” Karen calls again, loud over the sound of the men talking. “Come eat!”

“In a minute!” Arthur calls back, then he turns to Charles. “You coming?”

“You go,” Charles says. “I already ate.”

“Alright.” Arthur clears his throat as he takes a step back. “I'll, uh. See you later?”

With a nod, Charles returns to his carving.

Arthur nods back, then he turns on his heel and walks to the campfire.

* * *

Charles kisses him later.

There's a party at camp. They're celebrating... something. Arthur doesn't know, he wasn't listening. A week without trouble, maybe, though unlikely with these people. It's more likely that someone stole some good booze and they're celebrating while getting rid of the evidence before someone comes looking. Arthur doesn't know and he can't find it in himself to care either. A drink's a drink.

He doesn't stay for long. He stays for a bottle of whiskey that he shares with Lenny and a dance with Mary-Beth while he hums along to the song the others are singing around the campfire. But when Javier brings out his guitar, Arthur thanks Mary-Beth for the dance and leaves to find Charles.

Charles volunteered to be on watch and Arthur knows it's because he doesn't like parties all that much. He doesn't attend them very often, at least. Arthur's noticed.

He finds him just on the outskirts of camp, sitting on a fallen log between the trees. Charles doesn't look his way when he approaches from behind but he knows he's coming, usually does. His head turns ever so slightly when Arthur deliberately steps on a stick that breaks in half under his boot, then he scoots to the side to let Arthur sit down next to him.

It's quieter over here. Arthur can still hear the gang having a good time but it's faint. Here, he can hear the nocturnal wildlife and the wind that carries a chill in the air when it whistles past them too. The wind makes the tree crowns sway with it, quietly rustling.

Arthur digs a cigarette out from the pack in his pocket. He lights it and takes a drag, then he holds it out for Charles to take as he blows the smoke out into the air. Charles accepts it and lifts it to his lips. Arthur lets himself watch from the corner of his eye.

“You're still wearing my shirt,” Charles says before he takes a drag.

Arthur makes a noise, a quiet yes. “You want it back?” he asks.

“No,” Charles says and hands the cigarette back. “I told you. You should keep it.”

Arthur hums and takes it. He takes his eyes off Charles and lifts the cigarette to his lips. It's almost gone already. It's an old one that he'd smoked earlier and it wasn't gonna take long for him to finish it by himself, let alone shared with another person.

He takes a long drag now and tilts his head back to blow the smoke into the starry sky above them. It's dark out, well after midnight by now. The sun is long gone and the moon has taken its place high on the sky. The moonlight is the only light around them, the light from the fire back at camp too far away to reach them.

Arthur closes his eyes as he empties his lungs. The late night air is cool even though winter has gone and went but he doesn't feel cold. He's had a couple drinks that's left him with a nice buzz and a warmth spreading through his body. It helps to have someone warm sitting close to him and when that warm someone shifts closer, he opens his eyes and turns his head toward him.

Charles has shifted into his space, sliding closer on the log. Their shoulders brush as he turns bodily toward him and Arthur holds his breath. Charles is looking at him in a way that always takes his breath away. Charles is looking at him but his eyes are lowered to his lips, looking with intent.

Arthur licks his lips, lowers his chin.

“Out here?” he asks, quietly in a whisper. “In the open like this?”

Charles hums and says, “No one's around.”

“They ain't far. They could come any minute.”

“Listen to them. They're too busy and too drunk to care.”

Arthur does listen. He can hear Javier singing loudly and Uncle singing along drunkenly, slurring the words to the song that he clearly doesn't know. He can hear laughter and joy and none of them care that Arthur left. All are too busy, too drunk.

Arthur looks at Charles. Then he looks at his lips.

“Alright,” he murmurs.

Charles leans further into his space and Arthur closes his eyes the second before their lips meet in a kiss. It's not the first time they kiss but it gives Arthur the same feeling as the first did; excitement and fear mixed into something thrilling and breathtaking. He doesn't remember who kissed who first, the first time a few months ago. Maybe he did, maybe Charles did, maybe they met halfway, it doesn't matter.

Now, Charles kisses him with all the gentleness of an unrushed man. It's gentle, soft, exploring like they haven't done this plenty times before. He takes his time and Arthur lets him, lets go of all the nerves and fear of being kissed like this by another man.

With Charles kissing him like this, he can't find it in himself to care right now.

It doesn't last very long, however. Maybe a minute, maybe two, but Charles pulls back too soon and breaks the kiss. He doesn't go far, only just far enough to part their lips, and then he leans forward and rests his forehead against Arthur's with a soft, sated sigh.

Arthur opens his eyes and looks at him.

Charles' eyes are closed, the corners of his lips tugged back in a small smile. Charles doesn't smile much. Arthur has noticed when he does and it always makes him feel something that he can't quite name. And when it's a private smile like this, just for him, well. It makes his heart do indescribable things.

When Charles opens his eyes, Arthur doesn't look away.

“You taste of whiskey,” Charles says quietly.

It makes Arthur laugh, a quiet chuckle that makes his shoulders shake. “Ah, I had a few,” he says.

Charles makes an aborted hum, then he leans away. He still doesn't go far. “You staying?” he asks.

“Maybe,” Arthur says. “Might as well.”

“Good.”

Charles looks at him for another moment before he turns and shifts away a bit. It leaves space between them where they sit though it isn't much. He looks back out into the trees around them and Arthur follows his sight.

On the log, their hands touch.

* * *

Arthur wears Charles' shirt often, after that. He likes the way it feels, likes the lingering scent of Charles on it even though Charles hasn't worn it for a while now, although that might just be his imagination. He likes that it's a little big on him and doesn't quite fit him right. He likes wearing it but even more so, he likes the way it makes Charles look at him.

Charles always looks at him differently than everyone else. Arthur isn't as oblivious as everyone thinks. He may take a while and he may need it spelled out for him sometimes but he pays attention where it matters. He's noticed how Charles looks at him. He imagines it's the same way men would usually look at a woman.

He knows that what's between he and Charles goes beyond the physical, though neither of them have said as much. Arthur isn't good with his words, at least not in spoken form. He's written about these feelings and thoughts in his journal, although not much of it makes sense. He was confused at first and maybe he still is but he knows that he wants Charles.

He wants him to look at him the way he does when Arthur wears his shirt.

He wants him to look at him like that often and always.

It's nice. Makes Arthur feel like he belongs.

He wants him and Charles wants him too.

His touches, his actions, his whispered words in private—it's all that needs to be said.

It's enough. Arthur knows and Charles does too.

* * *

A storm washes over them on their third week at Shady Belle. It's a nasty one that looms over their heads for half a day before it finally hits. That half a day gives them enough time to get as much of the camp indoors as possible, all the supplies and all the things that can't handle being put through a storm like that. The horses too, which makes it all the more cramped.

When the storm hits, it hits hard and keeps them inside for a whole day and then another. When the third day arrives and it doesn't look like the storm will let up just yet, Arthur makes himself comfortable in his room, thankful, not for the first time, that he has some form of privacy. He loves the gang, would kill for them, happily die for them, but hell. Sometimes he just needs time alone.

He takes a nap and draws in his journal for a while. How long, he doesn't know but hours and hours must have passed because before he knows it, there's a knock on his door. He closes his journal out of habit and looks up in time for the door to open.

Charles steps inside, though he keeps one foot out and only leans in.

“Hey,” he says, quietly but loud enough over the storming rain.

“Hey,” Arthur echoes.

“You missed dinner.”

“Ah, shit.” Arthur sits up with a sigh and rubs his eyes. “I forgot the damn time.”

“I'm sure there's some left, if you hurry.”

Arthur pauses on his way off the bed and looks at Charles. Charles is holding his gaze and there's something in the way he looks at him that almost pins Arthur to the bed but not unwillingly. He knows that look and suddenly he isn't so hungry anymore.

“I can eat later,” he decides.

Charles hums and steps into the room.

The door closes behind him and he joins Arthur on the bed.

It's far from quiet in the house but they do everything to be. It's rare they're like this at camp. Hell, Arthur can hardly remember ever being like this with Charles at camp anywhere. But it's late, the storm is loud, and they got a room with a door. Who's gonna know, who's gonna hear them?

It ain't much but it's enough that when they undress, Arthur doesn't feel like he has to keep an eye out nor does he feel like he has to rush it. He takes his time, running his hands along Charles' bare skin when it appears underneath the layers of clothes that disappear, bit by bit.

And when Charles wraps his hand around him, Arthur doesn't think twice before he closes his eyes, tilts his head back, and lets his legs spread wider. He moans Charles' name under his breath and reaches out to grab him back.

It's short lived, once they get a hold of each other.

Charles knows what gets Arthur off, as Arthur knows what gets Charles off. It's been a while since they've been able to be like this and Arthur hasn't been with anyone else nor does he want to. He doesn't know about Charles but he uses all the tricks he's picked up on over time and gets him there as fast as Charles gets Arthur there.

From the way Charles thrusts into his hand and says his name so sweetly in his ear, Arthur has a feeling it's been a while for him too. Maybe he hasn't gotten off since the last time they were together, like Arthur. Arthur is a foolish, selfish man and part of him hopes and wishes for it.

It's a hurried moment and afterward, Arthur goes to get them something to clean themselves off with. He has a handkerchief in his satchel, one that he's used to clean his weapons before. He has another one, one that he uses during his hunting trips, but it's caked with old blood. The former has at least been washed recently.

… He thinks.

He grabs it but when he turns back to the bed, he finds Charles asleep. He looks peaceful like this, on his back and naked as the day is new. He looks vulnerable and comfortable and it does something to Arthur, something that he can't quite name. It happens a lot with Charles. He can't explain a lot of things, when it comes to him.

He likes it though, seeing him like this. He likes it an uncomfortable amount.

Arthur cleans himself up and Charles too, as carefully as he can without waking him. Then he puts the old wooden chair in the room under the door's handle, a temporary lock that won't hold long, and gets into bed with Charles. It's a small bed that barely has enough room for just one man, let alone two fully grown and not particularly small adult men.

But Charles moves onto his side in his sleep and Arthur slots in behind him, wrapping himself around him after only a second of hesitating. He rests his forehead against Charles' back and breathes in deep as his eyes come to a close.

He's asleep within minutes.

* * *

Charles invites him on a hunting trip a couple days later.

The storm has passed by then. It has left the camp muddy and wet and it takes a while for everything to get back to where it was before. They're running low on supplies too, food especially. After so many days inside with nothing to do but eat and drink themselves stupid and full, they're running on their last cans of food.

Pearson has made a list of things they need from the store and has requested someone— _anyone_ —to take it and deal with it. Arthur is tempted to grab it. Both Tilly and Mary-Beth have complained about being stuck at camp for so long and he has half a mind to grab Pearson's list and take the two to town for a day away.

But when Charles finds him in morning while he's having his coffee with Sadie at the campfire, he decides to change his mind.

Charles comes walking over with his jacket on and his bow slung over his shoulder, a hand holding onto the string of it. His other is holding the reins to Taima who's already got her saddle on and everything.

“You going hunting?” Arthur asks when Charles stops a bit from them.

Charles hums with a nod and asks, “You wanna join me?”

“Sure,” Arthur says with no hesitation.

He knows what hunting means; a couple days to themselves. He doesn't even have to think about it.

They leave quick and ride for hours. They catch a couple rabbits before they make camp for the night, somewhere deep in the forest. While Charles sets up the tent, Arthur cuts up the rabbits and prepares a stew for them to eat. It's still cooking by the time Charles has gotten the tent up and Arthur takes his eyes off the stew to watch him crouch down and fold their bedrolls out inside.

He watches him fold out one, then his breath catches in his throat. He tries to hold it in even though he knows it's useless. And it only takes a second before he has to turn his head away and the ladle slips out of his hand. He only just manages to bring a hand to his mouth and then he starts coughing. It's a dry cough, one that leaves his throat scratchy.

It hurts but he doesn't check for blood when he pulls his hand away.

“You okay?” Charles asks him, somewhere to his right.

“Ah,” Arthur groans and wipes his hand on his pant leg. “I'm fine.”

Even to his own ears, it doesn't sound like the truth.

Arthur can feel Charles' eyes on him but he doesn't look back. He doesn't so much as even glance when, a minute later, Charles moves closer to him. Arthur keeps his eyes firmly and maybe even stubbornly on the stew cooking on the fire.

He breathes in and clears his throat.

There's an ache in his chest that he ignores.

Nothing to worry about.

He doesn't look up when Charles comes to stand next to him either. Only when a weight lands on his shoulders does he let his attention slip away from the stew.

Charles is stood next to him with his hands on his shoulders and his jacket draped over Arthur's shoulders. Arthur is already wearing his own and though he hasn't been freezing or even a little cold despite the chill in the night air, his body is suddenly a lot more still and warm.

Arthur blinks up at him but Charles doesn't look back.

Charles' hands leave his shoulders and he sits down next to him with a soft exhale. There's some space between them, maybe on purpose, maybe not. Arthur looks away after a beat.

He grabs onto the jacket and pulls it a little more around himself.

It won't help but it doesn't matter.

* * *

When all is said and done and Charles has brought him down from the mountain, Arthur doesn't wear his own clothes for a long, long while. And months later, when they're settled down and, by some miracle, Arthur can breathe without his lungs rattling, Arthur rides into town and buys a couple rings.

It's about time he does too.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are much appreciated!
> 
> reblog on [tumblr](https://mlmsrogers.tumblr.com/post/629440793399164929) / retweet on [twitter](https://twitter.com/mlmrogers/status/1306301525564755968)


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